


Painted Skin

by sleepingplanets



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Pining, Tattoos, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 13:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3382481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepingplanets/pseuds/sleepingplanets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac cursed Mother Nature, all the gods above, and whoever invented tattoos and white T-shirts. Honestly speaking he should probably curse Combeferre too but he’s pretty incapable of saying anything smart at the moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Painted Skin

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this out of boredom and I honestly do love rainy days (also I suck at titles but whatevs.)  
> Please leave comments and stuff and I hope you enjoy! :)

Courfeyrac cursed Mother Nature, all the gods above, and whoever invented tattoos and white T-shirts. Honestly speaking he should probably curse Combeferre too but he’s pretty incapable of saying anything smart at the moment.

The rain came as a surprise. The day had started off beautifully, the warm summer air not too stifling before the clouds began to roll in. Then came the downpour out of seemingly no where. Rain drops pelted against the windows of his apartment loudly, the sound drowning out almost everything else. Courfeyrac had just set his cooking timer when there was a knock on the door.

Quickly, Courfeyrac wiped his hands on his sweat pants as he walked briskly towards the door. He opened it and the sight that met his eyes was enough for him to start hyperventilating.

Combeferre stood in front of him, soaked to the bone and dressed simply in a pair of dark washed jeans and a red plaid button down that was open to reveal a white T-shirt underneath. His hair was slick with rain and droplets of water ran down his face. Yep, Courfeyrac was definitely hyperventilating.

“Hey,” he greeted him awkwardly and Courfeyrac was knocked back into reality.

“Dear lord, Ferre, you’re drenched!” he exclaimed, stepping back and letting Combeferre in. “Come in, I’ll get you a towel.”

Combeferre smiled at him gratefully and walked into the living room. “Thanks. Sorry for barging in like this.”

Courfeyrac shook his head as he locked the door and followed Combeferre. “It’s nothing but what were you doing walking around in the rain?” he asked.

“I was pretending to be Don Lockwood from Singing in the Rain,” Combeferre said seriously but he smiled when he saw Courfeyrac roll his eyes. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and pointer finger while saying, “I was at the bank making a deposit. I was hoping to make it back home before the rain but I guess I wasn’t fast enough. Your place was the closest.” He folded his glasses and put them down on the coffee table nearby before turning back to Courfeyrac. “I hope you don’t mind.”

It was moments like these that Courfeyrac really hated the fact that he had somewhat of a crush on his best friend. If he was being honest, Courfeyrac was first attracted to Combeferre based on his looks and who could really blame him? The man was tall (a head taller than Courfeyrac), his skin was a gorgeous shade of tan, he wore glasses, and his hair was soft and he was one of the few people Courfeyrac knew personally who could rock an undercut. When he actually got to know Combeferre, he wasn’t surprised to realize that the latter’s personality just made his crush go even deeper.

Combeferre was intelligent and believed in everything and everybody. He had the patience of a saint and yet, wit and snark accompanied it. He always remained calm in the face of challenge before completely immersing himself in trying to figure out the solution and there was so much more Courfeyrac could say.

Courfeyrac wasn’t oblivious though, at least not as much as his friend Marius is. He knew Combeferre felt _something_ for him, if the subtle touches and the secretive smiles were anything to go by. Courfeyrac has been in his fair share of relationships to know that this shows a general interest but Combeferre was like a puzzle. One thing doesn’t necessarily mean anything certain with him and Courfeyrac was not going to make any moves until he was certain where things were going. He wasn’t about to risk the friendship he and Combeferre had on the assumption that the other man might feel the same way about him.

“Courfeyrac?”

Knocked back into reality, Courfeyrac shook his head and looked up at Combeferre. The other man stared down at him, frowning as concerned lines marred his forehead. “You okay there? You look a bit dazed.”

“Huh?” he muttered dumbly before, “Oh! I was supposed to go and get you towels. Hold on, I’ll be right back.” He ran off to the bathroom in search of said towels.

Courfeyrac definitely should’ve taken his time because when he got back to the living room, he was definitely not prepared for another surprise. He had always known Combeferre had tattoos but what he didn’t know was to what extent his tattoos had reached.

Combeferre had started on his sleeves after high school, starting at the wrist on his right arm before working his way up to his elbow. Courfeyrac thought that would be the end of that until Combeferre came back from a summer spent in London with tattoos from his wrist to his elbow but on the left arm this time, with plans on turning his right arm into a full sleeve. By then, Courfeyrac was sure he had a tattoo kink.

Now, Combeferre was standing in the middle of his living room with his back turned to Courfeyrac and he was so happy Combeferre couldn’t see the way he was gaping. Combeferre had taken off the plaid shirt and through the wet material of his T-shirt, Courfeyrac could see that there were swirls of dark color on Combeferre’s back. As if things weren’t bad enough, he watched the muscles in Combeferre’s arms bend and flex as he moved to strip himself of his shirt and Courfeyrac might possibly have let out the smallest of whimpers. The large tattoo on his back was of a tree done in black and gray ink.

Unfortunately, Combeferre had the ears of a bloody hawk and turned around when he heard the noise. “Oh sorry, I hope you don’t mind but the feeling of wet clothes sticking to me isn’t the most pleasant of sensations.”

Courfeyrac steadied his breathing and tried to speak in his most even tone. _Ok, there’s nothing to get worked up over. It’s just the guy that you’re most likely in love with standing half naked in your living room and he’s covered in tattoos and it's really hot. He’s got a tree on his back and oh my fucking god does he have ‘Egalite’ on his chest holy shit--_  “Nope, not a problem. Here.” He handed one of the towels over and silently cursed himself when he noticed his hand shaking but Combeferre didn’t seem to notice and if he did, he didn’t mention it.

“Thanks,” he said as he toweled off.

Courfeyrac couldn’t stand just watching anymore but at the same time, he didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything else. Mustering up whatever courage he had, he walked up to Combeferre with the second towel. “What are you do--” Whatever Combeferre was going to say next was cut off when Courfeyrac reached up and threw the towel over his head and began drying off his hair.

“Get this stuff dry before you catch a cold, idiot,” Courfeyrac muttered. “Or Joly’s going to be all over your ass for the next two months.”

Combeferre did nothing but chuckle as Courfeyrac continued on. “Wait a second.” He backed up and sat down on the armchair near the coffee table. Leaning forward, he said, “So you don’t have to reach so high.” Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow at him.

Scoffing, he moved closer and went back to rubbing the water from Combeferre’s hair. The seconds began to bleed into minutes as he worked, all other things forgotten. Courfeyrac looked down and noticed that Combeferre was staring up at him. He still hasn’t put his glasses on, his hazel eyes looking almost black in the dim lighting of the living room. He watched Courfeyrac work steadily, his gaze unwavering.

“What are you staring at?” Courfeyrac asked.

“You.”

“Why?”

Combeferre shrugged. “You’re beautiful,” he said simply.

Courfeyrac blushed and hoped it wasn’t too noticeable. “Well,” he started, not liking how breathy his voice was coming out. “You’re not one for being subtle, are you?”

They were closer now than they’ve ever been before. Combeferre reached up and playfully flicked away one of Courfeyrac’s curls. “Hmm. Subtle has never been your specialty no matter how you look at it,” he whispered.

“Is that so?” Courfeyrac asked. He knew he was risking everything here but at this point, Combeferre was just being cruel. “Then I hope you don’t mind this next part.” Carefully, he brought a leg over Combeferre’s thighs and sat himself down on the man’s lap. He cocked an eyebrow, a silent challenge to Combeferre.

Combeferre gave him a smirk in return. “Challenge accepted,” he whispered, leaning forward just so Courfeyrac can feel Combeferre’s breath against his lips.

Courfeyrac felt his breath hitch. Lowering his eyes, he looked down to the tattoos on Combeferre’s arms. Slowly, he reached out and tentatively began to trace the lines of color, loving the way they wind around his arm and how they seem so natural on him. He followed the lines of stars and planets, the pattern of constellations, the connections between molecular structures, and the wings of birds and moths.

“You’re such a tease,” he mumbled. “It’s not fair.”

“Says the one who’s sitting on my lap.”

Courfeyrac made to glare at him when he noticed the uncertainty in Combeferre’s expression. “What is it?” he asked.

Combeferre didn’t answer back right away. Courfeyrac gasped quietly when he felt hands settle lightly on his hips, the touch warm through his shirt and not unwelcome. Combeferre looked down for a moment and whispered, “Tell me you want the same thing.” He sounded worried, fearful of what was going to happen next. “I don’t think I can go on with this if you don’t.”

“Hmm,” Courfeyrac hummed, but inside, his heart was probably pounding as much as Combeferre’s. Carefully, he tipped Combeferre’s chin up. If this was the only chance he got then damn all the rules. “Can I show you what I want?”

He only gave Combeferre a second to nod before closing the distance between them. He kept it short and sweet, making sure Combeferre had the option of pulling away if he wanted although he hoped with all his heart that the other man wouldn’t. What he wasn’t expecting was Combeferre leaning back and pressing his lips to Courfeyrac’s again, this time with more fervor. The hands on his waist tightened as Courfeyrac clung onto Combeferre’s shoulders, the towel he had in his hands falling onto the floor. Their lips moved smoothly together and despite the months of pining and teasing, neither one of them wanted to take it any faster. They simply enjoyed the feeling of one another, the smooth slide of hands against skin and lips against lips.

When they broke apart for air, Combeferre stared up at him in awe. “God, we could’ve been doing this for so long now.”

Courfeyrac giggled before he was pulled back down. He  moaned when he felt the brush of a tongue against his bottom lip and he happily opened his mouth for Combeferre. He realized then that Combeferre was good at this, like _really_ good at this. Combeferre’s hands were slowly making their way up his back underneath his shirt and the touch left behind goosebumps on his skin.

They were pressed chest to chest when Combeferre pulled away suddenly to start trailing kisses up Courfeyrac’s neck. He licked down on a certain spot before biting down and Courfeyrac groaned, grinding down onto Combeferre. He felt a responding noise rumble from Combeferre’s lips before he was back at Courfeyrac’s neck, Courfeyrac gladly tilting his head and giving Combeferre all the space he needed.

Things would’ve totally gone further had a beeping sound not interrupted them. Combeferre pulled away but he kept his hands on Courfeyrac’s waist. Courfeyrac was in a daze, his mind slow to register the noise before he was scrambling off of Combeferre’s lap. He almost knocked his knee into the coffee table as he made a jog towards the kitchen, shouting something about soup and a cooking timer.

The pot was just about to boil over by the time he got there but he managed to salvage what was supposed to be his lunch. Sighing deeply, he turned around and watched as Combeferre came to stand in the doorway of the kitchen, his plaid button down on with the top few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up. It didn’t seem like he put his T-shirt back on. His glasses were back on and he was grinning at Courfeyrac.

_Dear lord, this was actually happening._ He tried to bite down on his smile as he stood with one hand on his hip and the other clutching the countertop. He could tell he was doing a terrible job at it from the way Combeferre’s grin widened and he let out a small giggle. Combeferre joined in and soon they were both laughing.

“Oh my God,” Courfeyrac said once they’ve calmed down. “We could’ve been doing so much for so long now.”

“Seriously,” Combeferre agreed.

Courfeyrac walked up to him and took one of Combeferre’s hands in his. “Would you like to stay for lunch?” he asked, feeling suddenly shy even though he had no reason to be. They just made out in his living room for Christ’s sake. "Or at least till the rain lets up."

Combeferre chuckled and leaned down to kiss his cheek. “I’ll stay but only if you let me take you out for dinner tomorrow.”

“Like on a date?”

“What else would it be?”

Courfeyrac couldn’t help it; he giggled again, trying to muffle the sound behind his free hand. He still couldn’t believe this was happening. Combeferre looked down at him adoringly. Pulling himself back together, he gave Combeferre’s hand a little squeeze before saying, “You got yourself a deal.”

“Good.” Combeferre kissed his forehead before moving around him and into the kitchen. Courfeyrac was beginning to regret cursing Mother Nature earlier. Apparently she knew what she was doing.

 

 


End file.
